"Mary,--I am weary of madame and monsieur between us,--you are my wife.
May I talk of our future?"

I spoke in the very words I had used the night I asked her to marry
me,--to marry me for my convenience. I remembered it as I heard my
tongue form the phrase, and it recalled my argument of that time,--that
she must marry me because my plans were more to me than her wishes.

She withdrew from me. "Monsieur Cadillac is waiting for you. You
wield great power."

Something new had come to her tone. I would have none of it. "Mary,
may I talk to you?"

But still she drew away. "Monsieur, I am confused, and you are needed
elsewhere. Not to-night, I beg you, not to-night."

I could not protest. In truth, I knew that Cadillac needed me. I went
with her to the door.

"To-morrow, then?" I begged. "Will you listen to-morrow, madame?"

But she had grown very white. "You are important here. There is work
for you. Be careful of your safety. Please be careful."

I took her hand. "Thank you, madame."

There was much in my tone that I kept out of my words, but she was not
conscious of it. She was not thinking of herself, and her eyes, that
were on mine, were full of trouble. All the restraint that the last
weeks had taught her had come back to her look.

"You wield great power," she repeated. "You are to be the leader of
the west. I see that. But oh, be careful! Good-night, monsieur."

CHAPTER XXV

OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE

I found Cadillac writing, writing. Letters were his safety valve. I
had only to look at his table to see how much he was perturbed.

And when I sat across from him, with the candles between, I saw that he
was also perplexed. That was unusual, for commonly he was off-hand in
his judgments, and leaped to conclusions like a pouncing cat. He
looked at me through the candle-gloom and shook his head.

"Montlivet, you have lost twenty pounds since I saw you, and aged. Out
on you, man! It is not worth it. We live ten years in one in this
wilderness. We throw away our youth. Then we go back to France and
find ourselves old men, worn out, uncouth, out at elbows, at odds with
our generation. It is not worth it. It is not worth it, I say."

I was impatient. "What has happened since the Senecas came?"

He made a tired grimace. "Principally that I have not slept," he
yawned.

"You have seen no signs of an uprising?"

He put his head between his hands, and I saw that he was i